“ Years Moreover ” ~ before the dark ~

I’ve sought living

Years moreover,

As man’s dream

Be time wanting,

Leaves me plead

Ne’er be enough,

Though I concede

Years so far lived,

Holds clearly best

Be time life gave,

Save so ascribed

A morose grave,

As destined site

Fixed be man’s fate,

Thus beg stall plight

For score or more,

Before the dark,

Becomes eternal night!     

                            ode to friend Basile, now in eternal night…

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“ Years ” ~ of living’s best ~

Years dying away

Some of living’s best,

Yet far too many

Years full of life

Aversely put to rest,

In the ensuing dark

Leaving held memory

Barely time to wrest,

From obscurity’s quest!

 

“ Years ” ~ be of laurels’ best ~

 

Years fading many

Three score plus ten,

When some then

Made feel too many,

Years not living

Aversely at rest,

Somewhat uncertain

Of laurels’ best,

Save idle giving

Wanted for naught

Held put to test,

Not waste what’s left

Though at times lax,

Thru forever days

Found in the past

Inspired by youth,

In then agile way

Did call for truth,

Hoped get it right

Before enduring dark,

Bids life its last night!

 

“ Fear Of Living ” ~ wants summon courage ~

 

The fear of living

Encouraged flight,

Or demands fight

To wrestle demons

Who cheat us of light,

Wants summon courage,

For hedonistic life…

 

Ergo be rid

Of inertia’s bid

And reinstate daring,

Lest fear of living

Be injudicious

Allows destroy,

The whole of being…

 

Thus need objectives

Not be swayed,

By the proverbial theys

Who so feign credence

Invoking so, they say,

Be without reference 

Save lamentable staids,

Life hath so daunted

Would hold fear of living!

 

Of Living ~ to the very end ~

 

I held I might

Live longer,

He whispered

To himself

When thoughts

In shades of dark

Did speak,

That he might hark

‘Twould sanction

But a peek,

At life between

The lines,

Should he so incline

He’d live beyond

What would allow

His furtive mind,

Thus fail recall

He’d found,

The idea of  forever

Be limited in time,

And so too soon

On any given day,

That of living

Would find its way,

Obdurately

To the very end

Of his forever time!

                                                        ode to my friend,

                                                                 Artist Claude Théberge